


A Different Sort of Magic

by KaT_John_Adams



Category: Elsewhere University (Webcomic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27028723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaT_John_Adams/pseuds/KaT_John_Adams
Summary: A girl goes to a witch for help, and it ends in a showdown.
Kudos: 5





	A Different Sort of Magic

Rote was popular amongst the student body at EU. He was friendly, clever, and had been performing magic tricks since he was a child. Now he did little sleight of hand illusions for friends and passers by while studying advanced mathematics. For the most part the Fae ignored him. He was smart about wards and charms, kept salt and iron on him in innocuous looking ways. And wore a silver ring on his pinky just to make people wonder if he ever looked through it. But perhaps his most well-known trait was the large, heavy, solid iron bangles he wore on each wrist. Gold bangles might be more traditional in his family, but iron was more useful here. And he was a pragmatist.

His girlfriend in second year was Smoke, a practicing witch that kept herself to "little" magics and happily gave anyone who came looking for protection any help she could. By her second year, there were already thirty or so students that visited her regularly and wore her distinctive tatted charms proudly. "Smoke’s Students" was a bit of a joking term, but less so than one might think.

But the real trouble started when a girl who was clearly not entirely human collapsed against Smoke’s door. Smoke brought the girl in, and went to call the campus medical office, but the girl stopped her. “Please, no one else. I need your help.” The witch nodded. She didn’t think it wise, but respect for one’s choices was part of who she was.

“What happened, and what do you need of me?”

The girl coughed and shook her short hair. “I need a charm. One of your charms. They’re good, solid work. Very admirable, really.”

A knock at the door set the yet-unnamed girl’s eyes wide, but Smoke held up a finger and walked on silent feet to the door. She smiled and opened it and Rote walked in. “Hey, babe-” he stopped, seeing the frightened girl. “Oh, sorry. I’ll come back. Do you need me to call anyone?”

Smoke shook her head. “I’ll call you, be ready.” Rote nodded. He knew enough by now that he took cues from Smoke in the world of Actual Magic. Her instincts were usually right, and never Wrong. He closed the door behind him, after smiling at the girl encouragingly. Smoke walked to her desk. “That’s my boyfriend. His magic is all tricks but it’s stronger than he thinks.”

The girl nodded. “I could tell. I’m-” she paused, considering her next words. “I’m Bounty.”

Smoke raised an eyebrow at that. It bode ill and probably explained a lot more than was readily apparent. But she pulled a tatted charm from her desk and looked the girl over. She noticed a red weal around the girl’s left wrist. With a blunted needle and heavy embroidery thread, the witch knealt by Bounty’s side and placed the charm over her wrist. There was a flicker of magic and the girl winced but did not flinch.

“Taking a risk, asking for a charm that hurts you too, aren’t you?”

Bounty pursed her lips. “I’ll go, if you want. I understand. You’ve no reason to care for one of us.” Her face registered surprise when Smoke made a slightly rude and dismissive sound.

“I’m a witch and you’ve come for help and offered no harm. This charm means your safety is mine.” The witch tied a few quick braids, binding the charm around the fae girl’s wrist. The charm seemed to struggle some, uncertain of its role bound to protect someone it was meant to repel. Smoke caressed it and it seemed to calm. She stood and retrieved a brass nut, threads long stripped bear. She tied it to the charm, letting it dangle across the back of the girl’s hand. The charm seemed content.

“Now, you don’t have to tell me what happened. You told me what you needed, that’s all that was necessary. But I’d like to know if there’s more I could do for you.”

The girl nodded. “I have to hide. For at least a month. But… I’ve only passed through here a few times.”

The witch laughed. “An RA would probably have been better for this, but I’ll show you around. My friends can sneak you food from the cafeteria if need be – we’ve got a very good meal plan, honestly. And there’s lounges to relax in and no one will notice another girl hanging around. I’ll give you some of my clothes, and you can shower and change here, if you like. And if you need to hide, well,” she glanced over the girl and nodded with understanding. “I think you’d like our Library.”

As the days passed, Smoke helped Bounty acclimate to Campus life. Smoke’s Students kept her supplied with food and snacks and, though initially wary of her, quickly became fond of the Lost. The Librarians turned a blind eye to the girl with no ID wandering the stacks, noting the charm and smiling at her but forgetting to ask after her card. Bounty found others amongst the students, many entirely unaware of her nature, who were friendly, charming, absurd. Within days, her smile was genuine, her hands didn’t shake so often. And Smoke’s charms seemed to just get used to her.

But came a night when the fog rolled in like a warning.

Students kept to their dorms, salted their windows. Some clung to their charms or had small, impromptu parties (invite only). Some prayed. But some were pulled from their little protections, great Power breaking barriers that shouldn’t bend.

Smoke sat with Bounty in the witch’s room. A tap at the window brought both girls’ attention. Smoke glanced out and saw several dark cloaked figures standing in the Quad, with a dozen students stood between them, shivering in the chill and foggy night air. She knew immediately what she needed and called Rote. “In the quad, be ready. Dress nicely.” The witch turned to the Lost and smiled. “Seems we have guests. Let’s get you dressed well.”

Bounty let her head droop and nodded, staring at the floor. “I understand. They have your friends, don’t they?” She flinched at the steel in Smoke’s voice.

“Not for long. Never meddle with a witch’s own. Come, let’s greet these unwanted guests.”

The two walked out into the mists, spectral eddies dancing in their wake. Rote met them as they walked out, and a few brave students even looked over their sills to watch. The figures moved towards them, each towering over the young entourage.

“Stop, I demand it,” called Smoke, and the figures paused, uncertain where the Power in this Voice had come from. “I Call on the traditions of my own, and name Rote as arbiter in this Deal.” The figures seemed to shimmer some, silently consulting one another. “This is a deal, I have the right to demand a third party oversee and bear witness.”

Seconds of silence ached in their stomachs as they waited for a reply. One of The Figures was suddenly before them and its presence was oppressive. Anger spilt from the form, but traditions were traditions. “We allow this.”

“Shake on it!” Rote held out a hand, smiling cheerfully. Bounty’s eyes widened at the gall, the temerity, to be so blithe and demand to touch one of Them. But he seemed unaware of the risk he placed on himself. Smoke watched the figures, unflinching.

The one that had approached them turned towards this twenty year old arbiter and though its face was hidden in darkness, it seemed to sneer. But it raised one hand, thin and long and wrapped in something like leather, and reached out. “We’ll bind ourselves to our words, as will they. We ‘shake’ on it.”

Rote grinned like a wolf and took the entity’s hand, shaking three times before the being fell to it’s knees, howling to break the souls of any who heard it’s keen. Rote took three steps back and Smoke walked over, standing over the screaming figure as it clung to its arm, cold iron bangle rattling on its wrist. “I would like to make my first and only offer, Kindly ones,” Smoke said, her voice carrying, unshaken and laced with violence. “This I offer – I will remove the Iron from your wrist, and you will release my friends. You will harm no one under my protections, and you will let Bounty do as she will for all time, unhindered, where ever or when ever she might go.” The witch drew a blade of sharpened bone from her pocket and held it to the thing’s throat. “If you do not accept this, I will not survive this night, none of us will, but that Iron is blessed and will never come free. And at least one other of your companions will not leave these grounds. Neither of you will die, but you will never be as you Wish again.”

Bounty fell to the ground, terrified of Them and of her new friend. She had not imagined a small being like Smoke could be so bold.

“Accept! We accept!” Smoke laughed and easily slid the bangle from the thing’s now smoldering wrist and lightly tossed it to Rote, who caught it and slid it back to his wrist with ease. Both bore a smile that echo’d a smug satisfaction and a hint of hunger.

The thing stood and waved, and the others vanished into the mist. “We accept these terms and you have won your friends. But you never asked for your own protections.”

Smoke’s smile vanished and she slammed the bone knife deep into the thing’s leg and it howled again. “A witch needs no one’s protection, come what may. Visit me again, and I will find clever ways to burn your forest to the very soul.” She stood, leaving the blade in place. The thing wrapped itself in suffering and twisted out of existence, its pained cries reverberating off the surrounding buildings.

Bold and curious eyes watched all this unfold from salted window sills, watched in awe as the students left that quad together.

Dawn broke, and the students that were in that quad were still together, having started their own little party afterwards in Smoke’s room. Bounty smiled and began crying not for the first time that night. “You’re all crazy. Thank you, but why? Why help one of us? And risk yourselves?”

All the mortal students smiled. Some waved their charms at her. Some just pointed at Smoke. The witch, herself, laughed. “As I said, Never meddle with a witch’s own. We are very jealous of what we claim.”


End file.
